Who Says You Can't Go Home
by AJ and Sebastian Goin
Summary: Tony returns home after a long day at work to find someone in his bed. Spoilers: Major through 11.2 and minor through current.
1. Chapter 1

AN: So this story is a bit different. It is already complete. We had debated a bit as to how to upload it and the final decision was made by JenJen. Each chapter shall be uploaded Weekly on Sunday. As it sits right now, it is 5 Chapters, but we are considering adding an epilogue. We will make sure to let you know when we post Chapter 5 if there will be one. Other than that, I shall turn things over to the obnoxious voice in my brain!

MN: This is an idea that has been kicking around in our mind since at least October, and we've been working on it about that long. Hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, the Song "Who Says You Can't Go Home", Bon Jovi, or anything else of value.

Dedication: For those who still believe that happy endings really do exist.

* * *

It hadn't been a good day. Actually, it hadn't been a good week and it had been 47 hours since he'd last left home. The previous night had seen a single hour long nap, taken at his desk while waiting on the information he requested to come back.

Justice had, however, prevailed and they had closed their case that evening. As usual, once they had a rather small amount of physical evidence, Gibbs made the guilty party sing like a songbird in interrogation. The trio of men along with their new probie had opted to stay and finish up their paperwork, allowing them to avoid the office for the weekend unless a new case came their way.

To no one's surprise, Bishop had been the first one finished and had quietly excused herself. Gibbs was the next to go, leaving with a mumble at his remaining agents to hurry up and leave. Ten minutes later the pair had exited the office together.

With a jolt, Tony realized that he had nearly nodded off in the elevator. His eyes opened just as the doors did and he shuffled down the hall. Each step took a measured effort and all of the focus he could muster. His keys were still in his hand, saving him the energy of digging them from his pocket as he approached the door to his apartment.

Once the locks slid open, he relaxed a little. From here to his bed he could run on autopilot. As he stepped through the door he reached through the darkness to drop his keys in the dish.

He was once again immediately alert as the keys hit wood instead of tinkling in the dish. A quick glance told him the bowl was out of place. It was only an inch off, something most people wouldn't notice even in their own homes, but he wasn't most people.

He pulled his gun from its holster and disengaged the safety. He scanned the living room by moonlight as he deposited his backpack on the floor and slid his shoes off so he could move more quietly. His bedroom door was closed, but the glass paneled doors leading to his kitchen stood open. Both of those things were exactly how he had left them.

Experience told him that the open door was more of a security risk so he crept toward it. It only took him a few moments to clear the room, but there was a glass in the sink that he didn't remember leaving there.

He padded back through the living room to his bedroom door. He held his breath as he slowly turned the knob. He pushed the door open slowly, suddenly glad he had managed to get the hinges oiled the previous weekend.

The light was off and the late hour coupled with the tightly closed blinds had left the room in total darkness and there wasn't enough light shining into the living room to filter beyond the threshold. Instinct told him there was someone in his bed so he stepped through the door, his gun leveled at the bed as he used his free hand to flip on the light switch.

A lump under the covers confirmed his guess that the intruder was sleeping in his new bed. The item had been a Christmas gift from his father, a simple yet elegant queen that replaced his twin sized bed. Whoever had infringed on his privacy was curled up square in the middle, buried under his comforter all the way to their head. As silently as possible, Tony moved to the foot of the bed. He used his free hand to grab the comforter and gave it a sharp yank, exposing the interloper to his gaze.

He was so harshly startled that he nearly dropped his gun, but he managed to keep his grip as he lowered the weapon to his side. His surprise guest was blinking harshly against the light, giving him time to regain his composure.

When he was sure he could speak coherently, he did so softly. "What are you doing here, Ziva?"


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I am absolutely floored by all of the wonderful reviews on the first chapter. I am hoping to get all of you replied to individually today. Thank you all so much. In other news: In one short week, JenJen shall be here for a whole 7 days! We're all very excited about this!

MN: In OTHER other news, we purchased a new laptop today. We should be getting it in about a week. There will be an adjustment period of getting everything onto it and learning to use Windows 8 before it's likely that we'll write anything else but we will continue to upload the chapters of this on schedule. Now, on with the story!

* * *

"What time is it?"

Her voice was sleepy, incoherent. "It's 0200 and you are asleep in my bed. Care to explain?" Tony switched the safety back on his weapon and moved to set it on his nightstand, forcing Ziva to turn to look at him.

She rubbed her eyes again and yawned heavily. "You were not home so I let myself in. I still have a key. I was tired from the time change and the trip so I decided to take a bat nap."

He clicked on the bedside lamp then sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion washing back over him as the adrenaline rush subsided. "I understand why you are asleep in my bed. But why are you _here_ Ziva? Why are you in the US? When I talked to you last week you were in Israel, right where I left you."

He felt the bed shift and her legs appeared beside his as she sat next to him. "It is a long story. You look like you are tired. We can talk tomorrow. Now you should sleep."

He sighed heavily. "The only reason I'm not making you explain yourself right now is because I'd probably fall asleep before you got to the good part." He yawned as he started on the buttons of his shirt. A part of his brain registered that he wasn't wearing his jacket and he hoped it was still draped on the back of his desk chair.

"How long has it been since you got a good night's sleep, Tony?" Her voice was clearer now, but still soft.

"I don't know. I haven't even slept in my bed for almost a week. Bad case. Came home a couple times for a shower and clean clothes." He tried to ignore the fact that she was watching him as he stood and undid his belt.

"Bad case?"

He pitched the belt generally toward his closet. "Guy killed the wives and kids of four marines. It was…" He trailed off, unsure of how to even begin describing what he had seen since Monday.

He undid his pants and let them drop to the floor. He kicked them off then removed his shirt and dropped it on top of them. "I really don't want to talk about it right now, okay?"

She nodded at him as he stepped to his dresser to remove his watch. "Okay." She slid forward, bringing her feet into contact with the floor.

"Where are you going, Ziva?" The clank of his watch hitting the hard wood sounded ridiculously loud to his tired ears.

"To the living room. I will sleep on the couch, you can sleep here."

He rolled his eyes. "Get back in bed. It's not like we haven't shared before."

She hesitated and he clicked off the light switch. The lamp on his nightstand left the room with long shadow that played across her face as she spoke. "True, but it has been a while, and things are very different now than they used to be."

He shuffled back toward the bed on the side opposite where she sat. "Things with us are _always_ different, Ziva. There is no 'status quo' between us." He peeled back the comforter, then paused to make eye contact as she turned to face him. "Look, we can discuss in great detail how screwed up things really are tomorrow. Right now, I need a good solid ten hours of sleep, okay?"

Once again she nodded at him and he took it as an end to their conversation. He climbed beneath the covers rather ungracefully. He didn't waste energy finding a position of optimal comfort, mostly because he didn't have any left.

He vaguely registered the light being clicked off as he slid quickly into sleep, but he was pretty sure he imagined the hand that slipped into his and Ziva's voice murmuring a quiet "Good night."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry I haven't responded to reviews. This week was nuts and, today, JenJen arrived for a visit. This will be our longest yet at a full week! Super excited. Tomorrow is a trip to the city for a museum and pizza adventure! Hope you guys enjoy this and I shall try to find time this week to reply to reviews!

MN: Yay for JenJen being here! That is all.

* * *

As he woke, Tony's brain felt cloudy. It was a common side effect of having slept for an extended period of time after having been awake for too long. As he struggled to consciousness he tried to remember what he was forgetting, to no avail. The only thought that surfaced in his mind was the desperate need to empty his bladder.

He didn't have his eyes fully opened until he was in the bathroom and it didn't hit him until he was washing his hands. Ziva. Ziva was here. In DC. In his apartment. Hell, when he'd gone to sleep she was in his bed. But she wasn't now. So where was she?

He exited back out to the bedroom and quickly found a pair of sweatpants to pull on over his boxers. There was a chill permeating the air so he pulled on an old Peoria PD t-shirt as well. His heart was thudding in his chest and he realized he was terrified. Terrified that she had either been a dream, or that she had been real but had left while he slept.

The moment he opened the door, his fear was assuaged by the smell of something cooking. He could identify the scents of meat and herbs among several others he couldn't quite place and his stomach rumbled audibly.

He padded toward the kitchen quickly, but paused outside the door. He wasn't sure what exactly he was supposed to say to her.

After a few moments of silent debate, his growling stomach won out and he pushed through the door that had been left slightly ajar. She was perched on one of the stools at his counter, reading a newspaper.

A large pot steamed on the stove and was the only obvious source of the smell that had him trying to remember when the last time he had actually had real food had been.

She had obviously heard him coming as she seemed totally unphased as she folded the newspaper and laid it on the counter. "I was starting to think I should wake you. You were out for almost twelve hours."

He glanced at the clock on the microwave. Sure enough the display read 01:52. "It had been a couple days since I slept." He felt awkward having such a casual conversation with her in his kitchen after all these months.

She slid from the stool and moved around the counter. There was a bowl already sitting next to the stove and she picked it up as she spoke. "You mentioned that this morning. I figured you would be hungry. You didn't have much food that was still edible, so I went to the store. I hope you are in the mood for beef stew."

She had scooped several heaping ladles into the bowl and his mouth was watering. "Right now, I'm hungry enough to eat what was actually in my fridge, and that smells a thousand times better."

She set the bowl down on the counter along with a spoon and motioned for him to sit, but he hesitated. "Eat first. We have plenty of time to talk when you are not ravenous."

He didn't have to be told twice. He quickly connected his six with the stool and pulled the bowl closer. He immediately shoveled a huge bite into his mouth, burning his tongue in the process. Just as he swallowed, Ziva set a glass of milk before him and he gratefully gulped it, easing the pain in his mouth.

Having learned his lesson, he blew heavily on his next bite before sticking the spoon in his mouth. He hadn't been able to taste the first bite fully over the temperature but he was now able to enjoy it fully. It was, by far, the best meal he had had in months. He groaned in pleasure at the flavor as Ziva returned to her previous seat next to him. "This is amazing."

She smiled at him and picked back up her paper, allowing him to enjoy his meal without the probing of questions or pressure of conversation.

He finished off the stew, as well as the glass of milk and sighed contently, a smile curving onto his lips. "Thank you. You have _no_ idea how good that was."

She once again folded her paper, but this time he could see the anxiety that lined her face. With his basic needs seen to, it was time they actually discussed what she was doing in his house.

His face fell, mirroring her seriousness. He hitched an eyebrow upward. "Living room?"

She nodded in answer and once again stood, exiting the room without waiting for him. He stood and gathered his dishes, rinsing them and placing them in the dishwasher then checked that she had extinguished the flame on the stove.

He steeled himself with a deep breath then stepped toward the living room.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I decided today that there **will** be an epilogue to this. Now I just have to get it written. ;-) Sebby has already gone to bed so nothing from him on this.

* * *

He was unsurprised to find her curled into the corner on his couch looking small and vulnerable. When she had to discuss anything personal, it was usual for her to curl up, subconsciously protecting herself. What caught him unprepared was the sharp pain the sight caused in his chest as he approached her. He lowered himself onto the cushion at the far corner and waited.

After a long minute it became obvious that she wasn't going to be the one to break the silence, so he did. "Why are you here?"

It took her a moment to answer him. "Because, you invited me."

Her reference to their first conversation in Israel sent another pain through his chest. "That was before."

For the first time she turned to look at him. "Before what?"

He locked his eyes on hers. "Before you told me no. Before I convinced myself that I needed to get over you."

A tear slipped from her eye and he resisted the urge to reach over and wipe it away. "Can you please let me explain? I need to say it all now or I will not manage it all."

He nodded and waited for her to continue.

She tore her gaze from his and fixed it at a spot on the wall. "After you left, I did exactly what I told you I had to. I let go of everything. I let it all come crashing down around me. When the dust settled, I found that I did not even know who I was any more. That was harder to figure out. One day it hit me: I did not know who I was, but I knew who I was not. I am not the person who does not need anyone else anymore. I am not the person who does not want to love or be loved. I am not the person who does not care if she hurts others any more. And I am not the person who bottles everything up any more, so I tried to talk to you about it. I tried for two months. But every time we talked, I could not figure out how."

She made a visible effort to once again look him in the eye. "So I decided to follow my heart, and it said to let you fight for me. So I decided to come back to DC. Maybe I _will_ bag groceries, but I will do it here. I _need_ to do it here. I need to be with my family."

It wasn't often that Tony found himself at a complete loss for words, but this was one of those times. He had a million questions for her but couldn't manage to form any of them.

"Tony? Would you please say something?"

"Like what, Ziva? I'm trying to absorb here. I've rolled with the punches pretty well. You made me leave you in Israel. I handled it. Then two months ago you started calling, texting, messaging, Facebooking, Skyping. And it was _so_ hard. But you seemed to need my friendship, so I handled it. But now you're here and I really don't know _how_ to handle it, cause I sure as hell can't handle losing you again."

She slid closer to him and he had to force himself to stay seated. She was inside his bubble and he never could think entirely straight when she was in his bubble. "What if I can promise you that no matter what you will not lose me again? I am tired of running, Tony."

His chest tightened until breathing was painful. "Can you promise me that, Ziva? Can you _really _promise me?"

She nodded confidently at him. "I promise you that I will not run from you again. I will not push you away because I am scared. I am ready."

And then she leaned in to kiss him and he stopped breathing all together.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: We decided to post this early because of the epilogue. Originally, I was planning to post both this chapter and the Epilogue together on Sunday, but somehow, the Epilogue ended up being longer than any other single chapter in the story. So you get this today and the Epilogue on Sunday. I want to say thanks for all of the reviews, follows, and favorites. You all never cease to amaze me with your positivity!

MN: Also, as punishment for leaving us to go back home last weekend, I've decided JenJen doesn't get to read the Epilogue before the rest of you like she did the rest of the story. We hope you enjoy the real conclusion to the plot here. Also, we really do need prompts, challenges, and requests! Please PM us! We have another story in the works but its complicated so we want to get further into it before we start posting it. Happy Reading!

* * *

As Tony lay on his back staring at the ceiling, he tried to wrap his head around what had happened. It still felt like a dream.

But a dream it wasn't. Ziva had really shown up at his apartment unannounced. And she had really promised him that she was done pushing him away. And she had really kissed him.

A smile twitched onto his lips. She had _really_ kissed him. She had climbed into his lap to keep kissing him. And he had willingly kissed her back after those first few moments of initial shock. And they had stayed there on the couch for hours.

First had been the kissing. Years of built up tension let loose through their mouths. He wasn't even sure how long he had spent with her lips on his, but it was long enough to know that it would never be enough.

Then they had stayed cuddled up, Ziva in his lap, her head on his shoulder, and they had talked. They talked about all of the serious things that they had left out of their conversations for the past two months. They talked about what had happed after he had left her in Israel. They talked about what had happened to Delilah. They talked about the case that had kept him from his bed for a week.

Then they hadn't talked. They had stretched out on the couch, Ziva laying down the length of him. He played endlessly with her soft curls. And she let him as she traced patterns on his chest, occasionally leaning up to steal a kiss.

They had stayed that way until their stomachs had both rumbled. She had stood, wordlessly and stretched her hand out to him. He had taken it and she used it to pull him to his feet then held it tightly as she led him into the kitchen. She had been reluctant when she released her grasp on him to set about heating up the stew. She had bought a loaf of crusty French bread so he warmed that to go with their meal. When everything was ready, they ate in comfortable silence, sitting shoulder to shoulder at the counter.

In the twenty four hours since then, they had remained in near constant physical contact. They had held hands at the grocery store on a proper shopping trip, cuddled close together on the couch to watch movies, and fallen asleep with their legs entwined.

Now they were back in bed, Tony stretched out on his back and Ziva stretched down his side, effectively using him as a body pillow as he fiddled with a strand of her hair. He knew he should consider clicking off the light and going to sleep soon, but he wasn't ready for the weekend to be over.

A though ran through his mind and straight out of his mouth. "What do you want me to do about everyone? What am I supposed to tell them? _Am_ I supposed to tell them?"

She raised her head to look at him. "Tell them that I didn't want to start _completely_ over."

He smiled at her and shook his head. "Okay, you and I both know that's not going to be enough for Abby."

She considered his words for a moment then a smile spread on her own face. "I still want to make him proud. He taught me to follow my heart and my heart led me home. Tell Abby that for me. And then tell her we should have dinner together next weekend. We should _all_ have dinner together next weekend."

His grin widened and he chuckled. "Alright. What about Gibbs. You gonna call him?"

She settled back against him, her cheek coming to rest on his chest. "Yes. But he already knows I am here. I stopped at his house before I came here. I left a note. A very long one."

He reached over to click out the bedside lamp as she pulled the blanket up over them. "Good. You know how he worries."


	6. Epilogue

AN: Well, this is it. We've started dabbling with a new CM story but that won't be ready for a while so please send us some requests!

MN: Thanks for taking this little trip with us. Hope you enjoy the massive Epilogue here!

* * *

She didn't turn as sock softened footsteps padded across the kitchen toward her. She had heard him come in the door a few minutes ago. It was also of absolutely no surprise when he snaked his arms around her from behind. She leaned back into him as his face came to rest beside her own.

"Whatever you are cooking, it smells delicious."

"It is lasagna, and it should. It is your grandmother's recipe. Your father emailed it to me a while back and I thought tonight was a perfect chance to try it out. I made the sauce from scrape yesterday." She set the knife she had been using to chop vegetables down and turned in his arms to face him.

He dipped down for a quick kiss, a smile already on his lips. "I think you mean scratch. And it _smells_ like Nonna's lasagna."

She leaned up to kiss him again, her hand looping around the back of his neck to provide her with leverage. When she attempted to deepen the kiss, however, he stepped back. "McGee and Delilah will be here any minute. He left before I did. I'm going to go change." He leaned forward for another brief brush of his lips against hers and disappeared from the kitchen.

She stared after him for a long few moments, seriously debating following him. Common sense won out, however, and she returned to the vegetables she was chopping for the salad.

She had just slid the last of the cucumber into the bowl when there was a knock at the door. She quickly wiped her hands on a dish cloth and hurried through the apartment to open the door. As expected, McGee and Delilah were on the other side and she stepped back to allow them entry.

Once they were both clear of the door, McGee helped Delilah from her jacket, stealing a brief kiss before straightening to remove his own. He waved off her outstretched hand and stepped to the coat closet to hang them himself. "Bishop and Jake should be right behind us. She texted me when we were in the elevator to let me know they were a block away."

A timer dinged in the kitchen. "Do you mind letting them in? I need to check on dinner."

"No problem."

She smiled at Delilah. "Why don't you two put on some music as well? Tony's just changing and when everyone gets here, we'll be ready to eat."

The couple agreed as she crossed back to the kitchen. In the two years since she had returned from Israel, this had become a regular occurrence. It had started with just herself, Tony, Delilah, and McGee. If fact, it had taken nearly a full year to convince Bishop to bring Jake and join them. But now, the second Friday of every month was date night.

Ziva would cook and they'd all eat, enjoy a glass or two of wine, and chat. Then they would pile into the living room for a movie. They rotated who got to choose the film and there was only one rule: no repeats.

It was the only day she ever took off from work. Technically speaking, she was the boss and could take off whenever she pleased, but she truly loved what she did. A soft noise behind her alerted her to the fact that she was not alone as she set the pan of lasagna on the stove. She turned, slightly surprised to find that it was Bishop who had joined her.

"Hey. I just wanted to know if there was, you know, something I could help with."

Ziva smiled broadly. "I do not think so. I'm just waiting for the bread to warm. The table is already set and I will make Tony pick the wine."

The other woman shifted, still, after all these nights, slightly uncomfortable around the woman whose position she had taken on the team. "So, how are things at the community center?"

Three months after showing up unannounced in Tony's apartment, Ziva had joined Abby for bowling with the Nuns. The women had been openly discussing a notion to open a community center. Their goal was to give kids who lived in rough neighborhoods a place to go after school and during school breaks that would keep them off the streets and out of trouble, as well as giving them resources to help with their school work.

Ziva had fallen in love with the idea and had ended up spearheading the project. The center was now thriving. She led a small team of local volunteers, plus the nuns in providing the center's services, with the strict understanding that she was not qualified to help with any homework involving grammar or writing.

"It's great. One of our kids just got accepted to Harvard, including a scholarship to provide for his expenses. He wants to get a degree in education and come back to teach locally so he can volunteer at the center. He is our first big success story." She cracked the oven open to peak at the bread. It hadn't started browning yet, so she closed the door.

"I think every day you keep those kids somewhere safe is a big success story."

Bishops quiet words touched her deeply and she felt her face flush. "I suppose so. Thank you."

They fell into an uneasy silence only to be rescued from it moments later by Tony's reappearance. He had shucked his suit in favor of a pair of well worn jeans and a soft, faded OSU t-shirt. His feet were bare and a light smile was on his lips. "Hey Bishop." He turned in her direction and eyeballed the pan on the stove. "That ready for the table?"

Zive nodded. "It is. And could you chose an appropriate wine to go with it?"

"Of course!" He moved in to take the oven mitts from the counter, stealing a kiss from her as he passed.

Bishop followed him from the kitchen and she turned to check the bread again. It was just starting to brown so she pulled it out, piling it into a linen lined basket. She turned the oven off then set off to her noisy dining room, basket in hand and a wide smile on her face.


End file.
